


It's My Party and I'll Mate If I Want To

by AndreaLyn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-20 23:25:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At eighteen, the common werewolf enters a period of maturity in the eyes of the pack. Senses become sharper, skills stronger, and mates are both revealed and able to be taken. Scott's turning eighteen soon and he's just finding out about this. He blames Stiles for keeping this from him for so long -- and Lydia. And Allison. And Isaac. Especially Isaac.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's My Party and I'll Mate If I Want To

Isaac fell first.

Scott was slow to see it. 

His whole world has been fraught with too much in all directions coming at him, so he figures he shouldn’t really be blamed for the fact that until the day he turned eighteen, there was still a string tying him to the hope of rekindling a relationship with Allison that had been dead for years. Stiles had given up on him long ago, but Isaac only started to really drift when he turned eighteen and Scott didn’t know why.

Stiles would give him these cryptic looks and Lydia would make off-hand comments about _things changing when a wolf reaches maturity_ , but honestly? Scott kind of had bigger fish to worry about and given that there always seemed to be a new threat after the packs in Beacon Hills, he left Stiles and Lydia to their cryptic club and he let Isaac drift away like the idiot he can occasionally be. 

Even Allison, the one he’d been waiting for, was further out from his life than he wanted.

Two days before his eighteenth, he snuck into her bedroom window – for old time’s sake.

She’s studying for one of the last finals she’ll ever take at Beacon Hills and even jumps when Scott drags an elongated claw along the windowsill. He grins because her heartbeat doesn’t increase in speed and he can’t scent a whiff of fear off her. The little jump? It’s all for show. “Hey,” he greets quietly, in case Chris is lurking outside. 

“Scott,” Allison greets, faintly bemused. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to make sure you were coming to my party,” he says. 

Stiles had taken the party out of Scott’s hands, insistent that he would organize the whole thing. Truthfully? Scott’s kind of not sure whether he should be excited or really, really scared. He’s tried asking Lydia and Isaac and Derek for hints, but the former two have been avoiding him, sort of, and Derek just crosses his arms and levels Scott with an icy, ‘It’s supposed to be a surprise’. Stiles keeps going on about how it’s such a huge deal and the wolf mythology is so big about eighteen and Scott isn’t sure what he’s going on about. 

Allison, however, seems to know something he doesn’t. She gives him an unsure look. “I’m not really sure I should be there.”

“Are you kidding?” Scott asks dubiously. “Allison, you’re one of my best friends. Why wouldn’t you be there?”

“For one, I’m not sure Derek and Peter would be so happy to see me,” she points out and where Stiles goes, so do Derek and Peter these days. “And...and, Scott...have you read up on what happens to a turned wolf on their eighteenth birthday?” she asks patiently. At Scott’s blank look, she must get the picture that he doesn’t have a clue what she’s talking about. Allison pushes her AP French textbook away and rubs her palms over her jean-clad thighs. “Okay,” she exhales. “Um,” she says, licking her lower lip. “I don’t know if this is part of Stiles’ surprise, but I kind of don’t want to send you into this alone, without knowing. I kind of thought you knew,” she says. “I mean...”

“What?” Scott asks, when she trails off.

“Nothing, I guess it just explains a lot,” Allison admits. “According to the bestiary, turned wolves experience a whole new world of senses when they turn eighteen and reach maturity. Something in the genetics holds back, like they can’t handle the full experience until they’re technically adults in the eyes of the pack. Eighteen is...”

Scott’s starting to get the picture. 

“What kind of senses are we talking about?”

“Well, smell for sure,” she says, tapping her eraser against the desk. “You’ll probably be able to differentiate a lot better. The hearing might be better clarity. You’ll um,” she says, and lets out a nervous laugh like she can’t believe what she’s about to say, “You’ll be able to scent out your mate.”

Scott vaguely recalls nights with Stiles and the both of them joking about wolves mating for life, but he never really thought that was going to be a _thing_. “What if I don’t want to smell out a partner?”

“I don’t think it’s necessarily ‘one smell and you’re done’,” Allison offers. “I think it’s more of an adapted skill to pick out the best possible mate in a big field of candidates. I think it’s more prevalent with born wolves, to further their lineage,” she says. “Eighteen means all that is going to become a lot clearer, though. So, I don’t know if I should be there...”

Why? 

Scott doesn’t want to linger on the thought. She’s scared that she won’t be his mate or she’s scared that she will be and Scott doesn’t know that he likes either of those options. He’d be over the moon if she were his mate. Even though they’ve drifted, there’s a comfortable connection that’s lingered between them – the only trouble is that it’s been more platonic than anything else for months and months, now. What would happen if they were mates? Is there some kind of sad equivalent middle-age slump for werewolves and their mates where they don’t talk and get bitter at each other?

And what happens if she’s _not_ his mate?

The idea of loving someone else as much as he loves (loved) Allison is kind of terrifying.

( _Except it’s not, says the subconscious beating of Scott’s heart, because you know, you already know, you know, you know, you..._ )

“Allison,” Scott says, ignoring anything but the main issue. “ _Please_ come to my birthday party,” he begs. “I’m going to need the backup. I’m pretty sure Stiles might be planning something horrifying and possibly ritualistic and I think Dr. Deaton is coming? And Peter and Derek...and...”

“And Isaac?” Allison prods. “Is he going to be there?”

Four months ago, Scott’s reply would’ve been instantaneous. Apart from Stiles and Allison, Isaac’s the closest friend he’s got and ever since he moved into the McCall household, he and Scott have been inseparable. And then four months ago, Isaac packed up his things to move back in with Derek and now Scott’s lucky if they talk once a week. 

Scott shrugs, trying not to make a big deal out of it. “I don’t know,” he says. “I’m sure Stiles invited him, but it’s not like we’re close these days.”

* * *

Scott turns eighteen at seven fifty one in the morning. 

His mom sneaks into his bedroom and presses a kiss to his cheek at that exact time. She smells like antiseptic and sickness, which tells Scott that she’s just come off her shift. “Happy birthday, kid,” she whispers. “When the hell did you get so big, huh?” She ruffles his hair. “I’m beat, but I’ll be at that party of yours tonight. Stiles told me to bring Vaseline. Should I be...”

Scott groans and shakes his head. “I have no idea what Stiles is planning,” he protests, burrowing into his pillow a little harder when he’s accosted with an overwhelming number of smells. It’s like he’s just been bit all over again and it’s practically giving him a headache. “Park where you can escape when you get there,” he advises. 

She pats him on the head and leaves him to sleep again, but Scott’s awake.

He’s awake and he’s going insane.

There’s a hundred smells in this room, but there’s one accosting him more than any of the others. It’s one that shouldn’t even be there anymore. Cutting through the stench of old socks and morsels of dropped snacks on the ground is _Isaac_. That smell of earth and pine and edged with the faint hint of cool summer grass hits Scott like a bullet train and he grabs his sheets and curls up, trying valiantly to take deep breaths and find something that smells more like him.

It’s been four months since Isaac left, but the ghost of his scent is as strong as ever.

Scott fumbles for his phone and sleepily dials Stiles – who he could call in his sleep without needing to double-check the number. “Stiles,” he mumbles. 

“Hey! Happy birthday, bro! The big one-eight, the werewolf maturity stage, how’s it feel to be an adult in the eyes of other wolves? You went to bed a cute little wolf-puppy and you woke up a big growly hunk of wolf-man.”

“Stiles,” Scott tiredly says.

“Seriously, can you fly? Are you able to heal other people? Can you like, see through walls, now?”

“I’m not Superman, Stiles, I’m still just a werewolf. Why can I smell Isaac?” he asks, because if he doesn’t, they could be here for hours.

“Uh, maybe because he lived with you for like, two years and his wolfy smell is in your walls?” Stiles reminds him. “Dude, seriously, let’s not focus on Isaac. He probably left some of his clothes there when he had his miniature freak-out and moved back to the original alpha flavor. C’mon,” Stiles wheedles, “Let’s go see what cool new limits you have. I warn you now, though, I’m bringing mountain ash and I swear to god, if you’ve suddenly lost all your control, I will puppy-pen you in.”

Scott hangs up.

Stiles calls back seconds later. Because Scott knows the suffering will be plentiful if he doesn’t pick up, he jams the phone under his ear. “What?” Scott asks tiredly. 

“I’m coming over. Oh and, uh, Isaac says happy birthday.”

And then Stiles hangs up. 

Scott gapes at the phone, not sure where he wants to start. For one, what is Stiles doing at this hour of the morning in Derek’s loft with Isaac and Peter and Cora? Two, what the hell is Stiles doing there _at this hour in the morning_? Is it Derek? Isaac? _Peter_? And three, why can’t Isaac tell Scott in person? Why won’t Isaac face Scott like an adult?

Growling, Scott lets out a howl of frustration that pierces through the house.

“Inside howling voices!” Melissa calls from the master bedroom. 

“Sorry, Mom!” Scott replies, chastened. He focuses on the only anchor he’s ever known, but Allison is a shadow of the anchor that worked so long ago and even when he closes his eyes, it isn’t her face he sees. It’s Isaac grinning at him in the moonlight with that stupid scarf wrapped around his neck. It’s Isaac at lacrosse practice, it’s Isaac submitting to Scott because he’s a pure alpha and he’s _his_ alpha. “Oh, shit,” Scott gasps, when thinking about Isaac grounds him and anchors him, but leaves him with a different problem.

He lifts up the covers and peers uncertainly down at his half-mast erection, quietly calculating exactly how long before Stiles shows up and sees it. 

It turns out that the answer is ‘pretty much the worst possible moment’ because as soon as Scott gets a hand down his pants, Stiles bursts through the bedroom door.

“Why do you still have a key?” Scott demands frantically, yanking his hand out of his boxers in a way that definitely is more suspicious than walking around with a giant sign hanging off his chest announcing I WAS NOT MASTURBATING.

Stiles holds up both hands in protest. “Oh, god, did I...were you...please tell me this wasn’t you charming the cobra. Scotty, I know we’re BFF in the forever sense, but there are _some_ boundaries I’m way too happy to uphold.”

“Stiles, please stop barging into my bedroom,” Scott pleads, hand off his dick now that he’s completely as far from aroused as he can get. Even with the lingering scent of Derek and Isaac on Stiles’ skin, all Scott’s aware of are the sounds and the sights around him. It’s too much. For the first time since the bite, he feels out of control. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, happy birthday?” Stiles says dubiously, holding out a wrapped box. “I’m here for part one of your gift. It’s not the awesome part, but it’s kind of amazing,” he boasts, standing back and grinning smugly. “Okay, seriously, open it,” he says, reaching over to do half the job for Scott. “A new threat could move into Beacon Hills any day now.”

Scott opens the box and finds...

“It’s a key.”

“Yup,” Stiles agrees proudly.

“Why are you giving me a key?”

“Because Derek is officially moving out of the loft and giving it to the pups.”

It’s a sad state of affairs that the pups in this case number Isaac, Cora, and Scott. Considering how strong Derek’s pack had been, once upon a time, Scott isn’t sure how he feels about that. Then again, things could be worse. Jackson could’ve stuck around and then Scott would’ve learned what it was like to room with Jackson Whittemore.

Scott shakes his head, not entirely sure he even wants to move out. He’s applied for a bunch of community colleges in tandem with Stiles, sure, but he always figured they’d get an apartment of their own. 

“So?” Stiles prods. “Anything?”

“What?” 

“You’re eighteen, now!” Stiles says brightly. “Am I your mate? Wait, were you thinking about me when you were rubbing the genie out of the lamp? Oh my god, am I like, werewolf kibbles and bits? Is this a pack thing? Is this because your alpha wants...”

Scott’s gaping at Stiles. “Please prevent my nightmares by not saying anything else,” he pleads, unable to really close his mouth. Well, now he knows why Stiles was at the loft so early in the morning. “And no, Stiles, I’m pretty sure there’s no weird polyamorous orgy wolf packmate situation going on. You’re kind of still just Stiles,” Scott says with a casual shrug of his shoulders. He’s relieved by that. 

It’s only then that he realizes he hasn’t thought of Allison since he woke up and as soon as he does think about her, there’s a rousing lack of fanfare. So, maybe it’s not her either. Weird. Disappointing. _Relief_. 

“Seriously, Stiles, I love you,” Scott says. “But it’s early, I’m exhausted, and about two dozen things are giving me a headache right now. I promise I’ll be at the party later, but can you just...”

“Skedaddling, I’m going, I’m getting right out of here,” Stiles cuts him off, jutting a thumb over his shoulder to indicate his departure. “I’m out of here, I’m gone.” And he is. At least, for the thirty seconds it takes for him to poke his head back into the room. “But seriously, if I’m your mate, you’d tell me instead of pining uselessly like...”

“Like?”

Stiles freezes up. “Like a pining werewolf who pines,” he states slowly. “Forget I said anything! Bye Scott, happy birthday! Bye Mrs. McCall!” Stiles shouts. 

“Get a sense of boundaries!” his mom shouts back. “Scott, make new friends!”

“Trust me, I’m way ahead of you,” Scott mumbles into his pillow, taking advantage of all that new peace and quiet to try getting back to sleep before something else can come interrupt his day.

* * *

When Scott wakes up four hours later, he isn’t alone.

Lurking by the window stands Derek in all his looming glory and behind him is Isaac. Their mere presence overwhelms Scott to the point that he can’t think straight. Basic instinct takes over and identifies them as _pack_ and _safe_ , but that’s about as far as he gets. He basks in the overwhelmingly pleasant smells rolling around him and attaches himself to Isaac’s with desperation. 

“I’m here to give you the only warning you get,” Derek says. “You screw this up and you’re not only out of the pack, I’ll sic Peter on you again,” he warns. “Be good to him.” And then he’s leaving out the hallway, he’s leaving Scott and Isaac alone.

This isn’t a good idea.

Things are beginning to shape into clarity for Scott. “When you turned eighteen, you started avoiding me,” Scott accuses, his eyes tracking Isaac’s cautious movements around the room. Isaac’s dressed in a blue v-neck that brings out his eyes brilliantly and is wearing a pair of loose jeans that slip every now and again to reveal a band of his briefs. In the four months that they’ve barely seen each other, Isaac’s hair has lightened in the sun’s rays, making him even more golden than ever before. 

Scott’s so hungry, he wants to taste every inch of Isaac’s skin and mark him so no one else gets any ideas.

“Uh, yeah,” Isaac says. 

“You figured out who your mate was.”

“Yes,” Isaac agrees with a slow nod of his head. “I figured it’d be best for all of us if I took myself out of the situation. We’re all leaving for college next year and I didn’t want to burden you with...”

He’s still talking, but it drones on and Scott zones out. He follows the thread of Isaac’s scent and holds onto it like he can navigate that thread to a place that’s safe and home. For years, he and Isaac have been friends and Scott’s sort of noticed that sometimes Isaac looks at him like he wants more, but he tucked that aside under the determined belief that he and Allison would get back together.

He and Allison aren’t getting back together.

Scott’s pretty aware of that, now. 

“...and uh, anyway, Derek says sometimes the mating thing doesn’t work like a two-way street even though it did for him. Sometimes it’s three to one. Sometimes it’s one to none,” Isaac is still talking, rubbing a hand through his hair awkwardly. “Stiles said I should come before the party so we could talk, but I’m pretty sure he’s hopeful that you’re my...that I’m your...”

Then, Isaac does the worst thing possible.

He licks his lips. Slowly, methodically, anxiously, Isaac’s tongue wets his bottom lip back and forth and Scott can’t be held responsible for the keening sound he lets loose. He’s off the bed before he’s even aware of it and eighteen apparently brings a burst of speed with it too, because Scott’s got his fingers wrapped around Isaac’s throat, pinning him to the carpet before a single heartbeat has even passed. 

Isaac’s scared.

He’s scared and he’s aroused and Scott wants to drink it all up. He bends his head down to sniff his way up from Isaac’s collarbone to his jaw, pausing every few moments to really revel in the scent he’s picking up. From here, it’s an amazing mix of the both of them and with every passing second, Scott feels like his human side is slipping away and giving in to the wolf. Isaac gasps for breath and though his body is trying to heal the damage Scott’s inflicting, there’s one thing that’s going to make those clawmarks on Isaac’s chest linger.

Because Isaac isn’t just anyone’s beta.

He’s _Scott’s_. 

“Scott,” Isaac gasps and it makes Scott pause for just long enough to break through and let reason and sanity filter into the thoughts urging him to _claim, kiss, keep_. “I...are you...am I yours? Are you mine?”

“Yes,” Scott growls and runs the tip of his nose along Isaac’s jaw, threading his fingers into Isaac’s curls to grip hold possessively tight, yanking his head back to elongate his gorgeous pale neck. Scott hurries to straddle Isaac, kissing him with more need and more desperation than he’d ever kissed Allison – because he’d never felt like this before, like if he didn’t kiss Isaac soon, he might actually go insane.

Isaac’s quick to give in, sliding his hands along the sides of Scott’s body insistently, hooking into the hem of his boxers. “Scott,” he breathes out. “Your party...”

Right. The party’s in an hour and the things Scott wants to do to Isaac are going to take a lot longer than that. He could ditch his own party, but he knows Stiles and knows his best friend will actually come interrupt a frenzied mating session so the party isn’t ruined. The party also reminds Scott of Stiles’ earlier gift. 

“That key...”

Isaac looks away, a blush coming over his cheeks.

“I guess that was partially my gift, too,” Isaac admits. “Since I’m staying in the loft and we kind of hoped that if you moved in...”

Then they’d have all the time in the world for Scott to suck and fuck and blow and get to know every intricate part of Isaac’s body. Scott doesn’t move from the tight straddle of Isaac’s hips, pressing slow kisses along Isaac’s collarbone as he closes his eyes and finally gives in to the floodgates of what he’s been holding back for so long. 

“God,” he exhales. “You feel so good.”

“Yeah, you too, Scott, but um, your party,” Isaac reminds him again. “I kind of dressed up for it and if I show up with come all over my pants, I’m pretty sure every single wolf there will never let me live it down.”

Scott’s eyes flash red at the enticing prospect of every wolf at the party understanding _exactly_ who Isaac belongs to, but Isaac’s comfort comes first. He doesn’t think it’d be a very good start to the relationship if Isaac resented him for something he did on the very first day.

“Okay,” Scott breathes out. “I’ll make you a deal. We’ll go to my party and I will have a slice of cake and say hello to everyone and open a few presents and then we’re going upstairs to your bedroom and you had better have lube and condoms, Lahey, I swear to god, you’d better, and we’ll see how long it takes to get everyone to leave when I make you howl.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone.”

“Because, I mean, Peter kind of wants to watch...”

Scott wrinkles his nose. “Ew.”

“Yeah,” Isaac agrees. “So uh, maybe we lock the door before we get too intimate.”

“Great plan, I knew you were a genius,” Scott praises and kisses Isaac one more time for good measure, lips firm against his before he eases back and threads their fingers together to pull him to his feet, leaning into the warmth of Isaac’s tall, lean body. 

“Did I mention happy birthday yet?”

“That might have been lost when my tongue was down your throat,” Scott admits, side by side as he and Isaac leave for the party and their plans for the evening. 

“Well, it is. Happy,” Isaac insists. 

“Yeah, and it’s about to get way, way better,” Scott promises, grabbing the keys to his bike, helmets for the both of them, and his keys. “Mom! I’m staying over with Stiles tonight!” he calls. “Isaac is, too!” he says. 

His mom comes around the corner in one of her nicer dresses. “Is this party going to turn into something that shames me as a mother?” she asks, one hand fastening an earring. 

“Maybe you should go after an hour?” Isaac suggests, with that bashful and innocent puppy face he always gets around Scott’s mom, no matter how old he is and how quickly his wolf-teeth can kill his prey. “I hear the party’s going to be pretty bad after that.”

“Right,” she says slowly. “You boys might be eighteen, but I know where you live,” she warns. “And thank you for the warning,” she adds, a little pale for the knowledge she’s been given, but after everything that’s happened in their lives, her ability to cope can be threatened by none.

* * *

When Scott and Isaac reach the party, everything goes silent.

Derek wanders to the front of the room, says ‘surprise’ in an even tone, and hands Scott a party hat – a _party hat_. He looks around the room to find people milling around and talking. It looks like the party’s been going on for a while, which makes sense given the fact that he and Isaac had stopped halfway here when Isaac couldn’t take the way his dick was pressed up against Scott’s ass and they had to stop so Isaac could blow Scott really quickly.

It’s also why every wolf in the room is shooting Scott murderous looks. 

“Just because you’re eighteen and you found your mate doesn’t mean you need to start wearing his come like cologne,” Derek says. 

Stiles slings an arm around Derek’s shoulders. “Don’t listen to him,” he tells Scott. “Because for like, two weeks after he first scent-marked me, he was practically bathing in...”

“Oh god,” Scott protests. “Please, no,” he says, gaping at Isaac with a look that begs to be taken away. Isaac, perfect boyfriend and mate that he is, claps his hand over Scott’s ears and leads him away from Derek and Stiles towards the cake. It’s also where Lydia and Allison are currently holding down the fort and Scott’s never been more grateful that neither girl has an enhanced sense of smell. 

“So?” Allison asks. She’s sad, Scott can smell that much, but he’s not sure if there’s anything he can do about it.

“It wasn’t,” Scott says, even though he’s sure it’s obvious by the way Isaac lingers in Scott’s shadow, his eyes downcast and fixated on Scott’s lips. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Allison says. “It’s okay, though,” she promises, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek before leaning over to give Isaac an identical kiss. “So long as you’re happy.” She gives Isaac a sunny smile, like she’s pretty pleased that if it isn’t her, then at least it’s something she likes. She picks up a piece of cake and tugs Lydia with her, though not before Lydia can whisper, ‘so hot’ and point between Scott and Isaac. 

Isaac looks like he’s beyond finished with socializing for the night and Scott kinda can’t blame him.

“Upstairs?” Scott suggests.

“Best suggestion I’ve ever heard,” Isaac replies.

An hour later with several long howls and a few particularly breathy moans of Scott’s name, the party has pretty much emptied out save for Stiles with his earplugs in and a garbage bag in hand, Derek with a beer (his fourth in the last hour) and Peter, staring up to the ceiling with a fond smile on his face.

“So creepy,” Stiles accuses.

“The young wolf got his mate,” Peter says. “I think it’s romantic.”

“So,” Stiles insists, “so creepy.”

“He has a soft spot for werewolf romance novels,” Derek complains. “Don’t get him started.”

“Have I mentioned the creepy?”

“ _Oh god, Scott_.”

“Right, Derek, can we please, can we go, can we...?”

“Yeah. Peter?”

“I’ll lock up.”

“And don’t _watch_.”

Peter crosses his fingers and lets the others out. True to his promise, he neither watches nor listens in. He does make sure there’s something for the boys to eat when they’re through and then he lets himself out for a run under the full moon in the sky. And when morning comes around and Scott and Isaac wake to the loft to themselves, it’s the first day of a brand new start.

It’s the first day of forging the bonds of family between the two of them.

“Not a bad birthday, huh?” Isaac teases, sliding his leg in between Scott’s.

“I can safely say it was the best.”

“Until next year, at least.”

Until then.


End file.
